Judge Deborah

The Hebrew Prophetess in Christian Tradition

by Patrick Henry Reardon

Early in the history of the Chosen People’s occupation of the Promised
Land appears the matriarchal and prophetic Deborah, the only woman listed among
the “Judges” that guided Israel’s various tribes during the
two centuries or so between the Conquest and the rise of Saul. Most of what
we know of this lady comes from chapters 4 and 5 of the Book of Judges,1
a historical account followed by a canticle showing signs of great antiquity.
This material, prior to its incorporation into the literary sources of the Book
of Judges, was probably preserved for a long time in Ephraim’s narrative
traditions at the shrine of Bethel, not far from which stood the palm tree under
which Deborah was known to sit and deliver oracular guidance to the people.
Although we are not explicitly told so, the reference to forty years of peace
in Judges 5:31 has suggested to some readers that this was the length of Deborah’s
ministry.2

It is the purpose of the present article to examine the story in Judges 4
and 5 within the context of traditional Christian approaches to it, and more
especially the characters within it, but most especially the character of Deborah
herself. As we shall see, the traditional approaches to this narrative laid
a particular stress on soteriology and the moral life. Toward the end of the
study, I hope to offer some suggestions for further exegetical avenues to the
story of Deborah.

With respect to both of our proposed lines of approach, soteriology and the
moral life, another introductory comment may be in order.

Within the Deborah account itself, of course, there is already present an
explicit interest in soteriology. Taken within the full context of the Book
of Judges, this interest is certainly not concealed. The story is, first and
last, an account of God’s deliverance of Israel from her oppressing enemies
(“And the Lord routed Sisera”—Judges 4:15), and it stands
within a lengthy series of such stories united mainly by this common theme.
Indeed, if the several traditions within Judges, drawn from quite diverse local
settings and tribal traditions, are joined by any element beyond mere chronology,
the motif of God’s deliverance is certainly that element. The Book of
Judges is essentially a detailed account of God’s repeated deliverance
of his people through the agency of charismatic figures prior to the rise of
the monarchy. The key to understanding Deborah, surely, is through that general
consideration.

With regard to the theme of the moral life, on the other hand, one readily
admits that this consideration is of far less importance to the purposes of
the Book of Judges. Truly, if the inculcating of moral example ranked very high
among those purposes, it would be difficult to explain how some of the juicier
stories in Judges ever managed to find their place at all! In the Deborah account,
nonetheless, such a moral interest is certainly present, at least in a minor
key, and it is to be discovered chiefly in the accented contrast between the
timid Barak and the more decisive and “executive” activities of
the two women, Deborah and Jael. But more of this along the way.

The Queen Bee

The medieval German abbot Rupert of Deutz was of the opinion that the account
of Deborah was “a plain story”; 3 consequently, he
did not comment on it at great length. Other Christian readers, however, have
ventured most interesting observations about that same narrative, finding arcane
and mysterious significance in its structure and details. They reasoned that,
if Deborah truly was a prophetess, as the sacred text says (Judges 4:4), serious
readers should study her story in search of those deeper levels of spiritual
meaning that might not be obvious to the more casual reader. Hidden mysteries,
after all, are the very substance of prophecy, and such mysteries are to be
explored and unraveled with spiritual insight, the wisdom given by the Holy
Spirit (cf. 2 Corinthians 3:6). As in all of Holy Scripture, therefore, Christian
readers have endeavored to find in the Deborah story the nourishing fruit of
sacred doctrine concealed within the shell of its bare facts and historical
meaning.

Instructed in etymologies mainly from the onomastica of Origen and
Jerome, Christians always knew that Deborah’s name means “bee.”
Though precious few of them could read Hebrew, this point was familiar to both
Greeks4 and Latins.5 In addition, the name Deborah
sounded as though it might have something to do with dabar, the Hebrew
word for “word” or “speech.” While it is very uncertain
that these two expressions, dabar and debora, do actually
share a common root,6 it is sufficient for our purposes to observe
that generations of Christian readers believed something of the sort, and they
went to some lengths to exploit the exegetical possibilities of such a connection.

Jerome set the tone of the discussion. For him, Deborah meant “bee or
talkative” ( apis vel loquax),7 or “bee
or eloquence” ( apis sive eloquentia).8 Furthermore,
apparently taking the word debora to be a diminutive of dabar,
meaning “word,” Latin writers rendered it into an appropriate equivalent,
apis sive loquela, “bee or (small) speech.” With this
interesting suggestion the possibilities of meaning were dramatically enriched.
The “speech” of Deborah was holy prophecy, and what could be sweeter
than the words of prophecy? But sweetness suggested the image of honey, and
bees, after all, make honey.

At this point the exegete could draw on another common tradition, found in
the prophetic literature itself, that spoke of prophecy as having the sweetness
of honey. Thus, the scrolls eaten by the prophets Ezekiel (3:3) and John (Revelation
10:9f.) are described that way. Likewise, in the “received text”
of Luke 24:42–44 (e.g., KJV), Jesus is portrayed as chewing on a honeycomb
just as he was about to interpret the prophetic Scriptures to the Church. Rather
early in patristic literature, likewise, we begin to find the honey contained
in the honeycomb as an image of the sweetness of Christ contained within Old
Testament prophecy. For example, explicitly describing Christ the Word as honey
( epi tou Logou . . . hos estin meli), Clement of Alexandria
alluded to Psalm 18(19):10 to comment that “prophecy frequently extols
( anagei) him above honey and the honeycomb.”9
This analogy of Clement’s appears elsewhere among the church fathers,10
nor would it require much imagination to apply this symbolism to the case of
Deborah. Deborah, that is to say, was equally a prophetess and a bee, and for
the identical reason.

Again, Jerome led the way: “In the Book of Judges we read ‘Deborah,’
which means ‘the bee,’ whose prophecy is the sweetest honey.”11
This double dimension of Deborah’s name passed into common usage through
the “ordinary glosses,” or explanatory notes, employed throughout
the Middle Ages: “Deborah means bee or speech ( apis vel loquela)
which signifies prophecy, and which brings together the delightful honeycombs
of heavenly doctrine and the sweet honeys of divine speech.”12
The theme became part of popular homiletics. “Deborah,” wrote Rhabanus
Maurus in the ninth century, “which is interpreted ‘bee,’
signifies the savor of prophecy ( suavitatem prophetiae) and the sweetness
of heavenly doctrine ( coelestis doctrinae dulcedinem).”13

But why should the sweet significance of Deborah’s name be limited to
prophecy? What about the Law? In this connection Christian readers remembered
that the psalmist also speaks of the sweetness of God’s Law, comparing
it to honey. The favored text here was Psalm 118(119):103—“How sweet
are your words to my lips, sweeter than honey to my mouth,” a psalm verse
that Latin Christians loved to quote when explaining the meaning of Deborah’s
name, apis vel loquela.14 The mere letter of the Law,
however, as they were prompt to remark, was only the outer structure that carried
the rich, sweet, and nourishing meaning within, and in this respect it resembled
the honeycomb containing the honey of the Spirit: “Deborah means bee,
because it signifies the law like honey in the wax; that is, it contains in
the letter the sweetness of the Spirit.”15 Deborah’s
very name, then, was the key to understanding her.

Prophetess and Type of the Church

In Deborah’s story, however, the character most resembling Israel’s
other Judges is not Deborah, but Barak, as the Epistle to the Hebrews (11:32)
had early observed. While most of the heroes of the Book of Judges were charismatic
warriors, Deborah is called, rather, a “prophetess” (Judges 4:4).
That is to say, unlike Gideon, Jephthah, Samson, and the other Judges, Deborah
“governed Israel by prophetic oracles.”16 In so identifying
her, the Book of Judges links her to Moses and Miriam, making her Israel’s
first prophetic figure after the Exodus. In this respect her ministry more closely
resembled, perhaps, the last of the Judges, Samuel, a figure whom the New Testament
more readily linked to the prophets.17 Both as a prophetic figure
and as a woman, therefore, she is unique among the Judges: “Though there
were many judges in Israel, no prior woman was a judge; after Joshua were many
judges, but none was a prophet.”18

As Israel’s second prophetess after Miriam, Deborah often appears in
lists of prophetic women, among such high company as Miriam herself, Hulda,
Judith, and the daughters of Philip,19 as well as Sarah, Rebecca,
the New Testament Hannah (Luke 2:36), Elizabeth, and even Mary, the Mother of
Jesus.20

It is curious that some effort was also made to regard Deborah as a widow
and thus to hold her up as a model of consecrated Christian widowhood. For example,
an apocryphal work handed down among the writings of Athanasius interpreted
Deborah’s ministry this way, comparing her to Judith.21
Moreover, the great Ambrose held this opinion as well, even claiming that Barak
was Deborah’s own son.22 So great was the authority of
the bishop of Milan that these views might well have prevailed in the West,
had it not been for the superior critical reputation of Jerome, who easily repudiated
both notions as not sustained in Holy Scripture.23 It was as
a prophetess, therefore, that the Church has always remembered Deborah.24

If the whole ministry of Deborah was prophetic, however, this quality especially
describes her canticle in Judges 5. The latter fits a certain established pattern
of biblical canticles, and Procopius of Gaza observed that it was the fourth
such in Holy Scripture, after Exodus 15, Numbers 21, and Deuteronomy 32.25
Understood in its spiritual significance Deborah’s song was to be sung
in the Church: “spiritualiter in Ecclesia . . . canendum
est.”26 Christians have especially compared her paean
of victory with that of Moses and Miriam at the Red Sea after the destruction
of Pharaoh’s army.27 Deborah sang this canticle, after
all, “in the person of the whole of Israel.”28 While
not leaving out the song of Moses and Miriam, other writers also drew attention
to the affinities joining the canticle of Deborah to those of David and, more
especially, Hannah, the mother of Samuel.29

Now, if Deborah was a prophetess, exactly what did she prophesy? This was
somewhat less easy to say with precision. While there is no doubt, wrote Augustine,
that “the Spirit of God worked through her,” the actual meaning
of Deborah’s “prophecy is so little evident ( aperta) that
without a lengthy exposition we could not demonstrate how it refers to Christ.”30
Ambrose, for his part, ventured a couple of suggestions on the point. First,
he said, Deborah prophesied Barak’s victory and the exploit of Jael.31
Second and more important, however, she prophesied the coming of the Church
of the Gentiles. Now, exactly how did she do that? Simple, answered Ambrose,
Deborah prophesied that the victory of Israel would come from the hand of a
woman, and this woman was the Gentile, Jael, who symbolizes the Church drawn
from the Gentiles. So Deborah was the prophetess of the calling of the Gentiles.32

But Deborah was more than a prophetess. A woman devoted entirely to the service
of God, who was also a “mother in Israel” (Judges 5:7), who rallied
God’s servants to fight his enemies, and a woman who, like Miriam, sang
praises to God for his deliverance, a leader and judge who proclaimed God’s
words to his people—in all these respects Deborah was a true figure of
God’s holy Church. Like Moses, she stood praying on the mountain during
the battle.33 More than a prophetess, she was also something
of a prophecy, a prefiguration of that final Lady who is the Bride of the Lamb.
Deborah was supremely an ecclesial woman, typum Ecclesiae, figura
Ecclesiae.34 It was Ambrose, perhaps, who most eloquently
expressed this large dimension of the ministry of Deborah:

According to the historical meaning of this story (secundum historiam),
therefore, in order to stir up the minds of women, a woman judged, a woman
set everything in order, a woman prophesied, a woman triumphed, and, intruding
herself into the dispositions of battle, taught men to fight under a woman’s
command. According to this story’s meaning as mystery (secundum
mysterium), it is the warfare of faith. It is the victory of the Church.35

Ambrose emphasized the aspect of ecclesiology in this account: “So the
commencement of the victory was with the ancients ( a majoribus), but
the end of it with the Church ( finis in Ecclesia).”36

Deborah and Barak

In addition to her being a prophetess and a symbol of the Church, Christian
comment has also drawn attention to Deborah as an exemplar of virtue, especially
virtue of the more executive and aggressive sort that characterizes the Book
of Judges.

Once again, it was Jerome who set the tone of such comment, observing that,
if Barak had been a brave and decisive man to begin with, Deborah’s intervention
in the battle with Sisera would not have been necessary. He went on to compare
her to Mary Magdalene, whom the Gospels likewise show to have been a courageous
woman at the time of the Lord’s death and burial, in conspicuous contrast
to the intimidated, bewildered, and discouraged apostles.37 Elsewhere
Jerome observed that God’s use of a woman to bring deliverance on this
occasion was a reproach ( reprehensio) to the people of Israel. He
thus compared Deborah to Hulda, who prophesied “when the men were silent.”38
Still elsewhere, Jerome compared Deborah’s victory to those of Esther
and Judith, remarking that “Hulda prophesied when the men were silent,
and Deborah, both a judge and a prophetess, overcame the enemies of Israel,
while Barak was fearful.”39

It is not surprising, then, that Christian readers have always seen the Deborah
story as evidence of God’s equal regard for men and women. Thus, Theodoret
of Cyr, citing the testimony of Galatians 3:28 that in Christ “there is
neither male nor female,” remarked that Barak did not dare ( me tolmesai)
go off to battle without Deborah. Citing this example, as well as the parallel
prophetic ministries of Moses and Miriam, Theodoret went on to comment: “There
is one nature ( mia physis) of men and women, for woman was formed
from Adam and partakes of reason ( logou meteilechen) as he does.”40
(While all of this is manifestly true as doctrine, it is difficult to see how
the equality of men and women is evident in Judges 4–5, where, if one
may safely venture the remark, the women seem to be quite a bit more reliable
than the men.)

Sentiments about the strength of women were understandably common when Christians
read the biblical account of Deborah. Ambrose, for example, used it to show
that widows really had no need for new husbands, since Deborah,

not held back by the weakness of her sex, undertook the responsibilities
of men, and amply accomplished what she had undertaken. At length, when the
Jews were being ruled by the discretion of the judges, because they could
not be governed with manly justice, nor defended with manly strength, while
wars raged all around them, they chose for themselves Deborah, by whose judgement
they might be ruled.41

Similarly and five centuries later, Rhabanus Maurus observed that the story
of Deborah provides “no small encouragement to women,” telling them
“not to despair of the weakness of their sex.”42
Likewise, Verecundus of Junca regarded Deborah’s governance of the people
as evidence that “heavenly grace is poured out in like manner ( pariter)
on both men and women.”43

Such comments about men and women are rooted, of course, in the particulars
of the story itself. Indeed, the contrast between the forthright Deborah and
the timid, reluctant Barak is one of the most obvious and entertaining examples
of this literary technique in all of Holy Scripture. The robust directives of
Deborah in Judges 4:6f. (“Go . . . Deploy . . .
Take”) are met by the poltroonish foot-dragging of Barak in verse 8. His
pathetic response is composed of two hypothetical pronouncements that leave
all the initiative to Deborah: “If you go with me, I will go. If you will
not go with me, I will not go.” The very sounds of the Hebrew text mimic
both the bee-like, rapid-fire delivery of Deborah ( lek wumashakta . . .
welaqahta) and the lifeless, melancholic mumbling of Barak ( ’im
telki ‘immi wahalakti, we’im lo’ telki ‘immi lo’elek).

This highly amusing contrast is further heightened by the fact that Barak’s
very name means “lightning bolt.” The energetic Deborah is manifestly
frustrated, having a difficult time convincing this lightning to strike! A few
verses later, Deborah must sting the sluggard again: Qum—“Up!”
(4:14) This sharp command, qum, is repeated in the canticle in Judges
5:12.

A plain reading of this passage would hardly seem to cast much glory on the
character of Barak, though I am aware of no Christian assessment of him so severe
as the Talmud’s depiction of him as a sort of dunce.44
Nor, on the other hand, did any Christian interpreter follow the lead of the
Pseudo-Jonathan Targum which, in an apparent reference to Barak, changed “the
angel of the Lord” to “the prophet of the Lord” in Judges
5:23. Nonetheless, perhaps more than one reader of the Epistle to the Hebrews
felt that its author was perhaps overly generous in listing Barak among the
heroes of faith.45

The author of Hebrews was not the last reader of Judges, nonetheless, to adopt
such a positive attitude toward Barak. Indeed, in the longest commentary on
Judges 5 to come down to us from former times, the medieval Latin writer, Verecundus
of Junca, saw in Barak a type of the Savior himself ( figuram . . .
Salvatoris). In his relentless search for every possible arcane meaning
in the various names in the story, Verecundus managed to overlook certain rather
clear aspects of the characters as they were actually developed in the narrative.
Thus, he completely missed the contextual irony of Barak’s own name, “lightning
bolt.” Skipping the obvious sarcasm intended in Judges 4, Verecundus jumped
up to the Gospels to explain the name: “For as the lightning comes from
the east and flashes to the west, so also will the coming of the Son of man
be (Matthew 24:27).”46 Fortunately for the history of exegesis,
this resourceful effort of Verecundus remained rather singular in the interpretation
of Judges.

Other Christian readers, struck by the manifest weaknesses of Barak’s
personality, have better appreciated the irony of his name. Following the lead
of Josephus,47 Greeks translated it literally as a noun,
astrape, “lightning bolt.”48 The Latins varied
it slightly, some translating the name as a participle fulgurans,
“lightening,”49 others as the adjective coruscus,
“brilliant,”50 others yet as the nouns fulmen,
“lightning bolt,”51 and coruscatio, “flashing.”52
In traditional Latin usage, these words were often interchanged anyway.

Another problem posed itself in this respect, however. What about “Lapidoth,”
the name of Deborah’s husband? This name, taken as the plural of
lapid, literally means “lamps,”53 but it was
also understood by some readers to be a virtual synonym for Barak’s own
name. For this reason there developed an obscure but curious rabbinical interpretation
that identified Lapidoth, the husband of Deborah, as Barak himself.54

This rabbinical identification of the two men, Lapidoth and Barak, for which
the Bible provides not the faintest support beyond the names themselves, became
a considerable feature of the medieval Latin understanding of Judges 4 and 5.
Thus, Rupert of Deutz wrote: “Lapidoth is interpreted ‘lightning’
( fulgur), and Barak ‘lightning bolt’ ( fulmen).”
He took both names to refer to the same man, whom he identified as Deborah’s
husband ( vir Debborae).55 Rupert was not alone in holding
this strange view. For instance, Andrew of St. Victor wrote: “This Barak
is believed ( creditur) to be the same person ( idem ipse)
as Lapidoth. . . . This Barak is Lapidoth, her husband (
maritus), whom the woman summoned as she went to battle.”56
The same opinion (creditur, again) about Barak and Lapidoth was voiced by Peter
Comestor.57

The most noticeable aspect of a lightning bolt, for nearly all Latin writers,
was the unstable and transitory nature of its illumination. Lightning is designed,
in its nature, to pass away rather quickly. Thus, still following an allegorical
approach to the story of Deborah, undependable Barak came to represent the transitory
mission of the Jews. His light flashed, as it were, but quickly faded away.
Likewise, lamp-bearers for a time, the Jews were not destined to be the permanent
light of the world. When Peter Damian, in the eleventh century, identified Barak
as a symbol of the Jews, the identification was already so traditional that
he did not even need to explain it.58 Isidore of Seville had
long before explicated the matter: “Lightning certainly has a light, but
not a permanent one; it flashes for a time, but then it stops.” In this
respect, he said, it symbolizes the inability of the Jews to maintain their
light in the world.59 Isidore may, in fact, have been quoting
a commonplace, because later Rhabanus Maurus would twice make the same observation
nearly verbatim and without attribution.60 Rupert of Deutz, on
the other hand, still applying both names to the populus Judaicus, made Lapidoth
( fulgur, “lightning flash”) refer to those Jews who “fizzled
out,” while the name Barak ( fulmen, “lightning bolt”)
indicated the Jews who turned violent in persecuting Jesus and the early Church.61

In general, then, and notwithstanding the positive reference in Hebrews 11:32,
the Christian assessment of Barak has tended to be on the negative side, and
the moral contrast between him and Deborah, in Judges 4, provided the basic
outline of traditional interpretation.

The Church of the Gentiles

Because of his reluctance to go forth against the enemies of Israel, Deborah
warns Barak, he will gain no glory from the triumph. A woman, rather, will be
given credit for the victory. Thus Deborah foretells the coming activity of
Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite (Judges 4:9). To prepare the reader for Jael’s
meeting with Sisera, the author of the Book of Judges then takes explicit care
to place Heber’s household in the vicinity of the battle (4:11);62
earlier in Judges, after all, the Kenites had been positioned much further to
the south (1:16).

Barak’s victory, for which the Lord alone is given credit, not Barak,
is described in a bare two verses (4:15f.), because it is the action of the
woman Jael that receives the longer and detailed attention. This non-Israelite
woman, of the family of Moses’ father-in-law, becomes a genuine heroine
in the story, and the striking fashion by which she finishes off Sisera certainly
puts her in equal rank with more violent characters in this very violent book
of the Bible.

So, what have Christian readers had to say about Jael? Actually, their enthusiastic
comments about the woman sometimes bordered on rhapsody. After all, Deborah
had called Jael “blessed among women” (Judges 5:24). This expression,
tborak minnashim, was translated into Greek variously as eulogetheie
ek gynaikon (Alexandrinus) and eulogetheie en gynaiksin (Vaticanus),
either expression close enough to Elizabeth’s greeting to Mary in Luke
1:42 to raise Jael into rather exalted company.63 To Christian
readers, who prayed the Ave Maria many times each day, “blessed
among women” was about as exalted and laudatory a pronouncement as one
could imagine. And among what sort of women was Jael called blessed? Such women,
said Rupert of Deutz, as “Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, Leah, and nearly all
the rest of the women.”64

Since the enemy of God’s people, Sisera, was an image of Satan, a point
undisputed among believers, then what should be said for the blessed woman who
slew him? Jael could be no less than a type of the holy Church, the Ecclesia.
She was, preeminently, the ecclesial woman: “Jael, id est
Ecclesia.”65 Indeed, it was in killing Sisera that
Jael proved this.66 Jael was, moreover, a gentile woman,
mulier alienigena, and therefore symbolized the Church drawn from the Gentiles.67
“The gentile woman, Jael, signifies the Church,” wrote Walafrid
Strabo.68 In contrast to Barak, whose fizzled lightning represented
the inconstant Jews, Jael represents the permanent and victorious Church drawn
from the Gentiles.69

This Latin medieval line of interpretation of Jael was especially indebted
to St. Ambrose of Milan in the late fourth century. It was Ambrose who had viewed
Jael’s victory over Sisera as a foreshadowing of the coming of the gentile
Church and her triumph over the demons. For Ambrose the whole story symbolized
something that takes place now, in our own lives in Christ:

Deborah, therefore, prophesied the outcome of the battle; being commanded,
Barak, led the army; Jael seized the triumph, for she fought on behalf of
this prophecy in Deborah, who mystically revealed to us the ascendancy (ortum)
of the Church that was to arise (surrecturae) from among the Gentiles,
and for whom would be quested a triumph over the spiritual Sisera, that is,
over the adverse powers. For us, therefore, the oracles of the prophets do
battle; for us, those judgments and arms of the prophets have triumphed. Therefore,
it was not the people of the Jews, but Jael who sought victory over the enemy.70

After this elaborate exposition by Ambrose, there remained for the Middle
Ages only the task of filling in some smaller details of the account. This they
did with dispatch. For example, while there was no doubt that Sisera represented
the devil, “the head of all the perverse,”71 what
exactly was meant by that mallet with which the strong-armed Jael dispatched
him? Was it, as Peter Damian thought, a symbol of the Cross? Mallets are made
of wood, after all, so that would seem to settle the question.72
But it may also be the word of God, so feared by Satan.73

In summary, then, for the traditional Christian reading of the story of Deborah,
the major directions of exegesis were those laid down by Jerome and Ambrose.
These directions ran along soteriological and moral lines. Compared with Jerome
and Ambrose, the only significant variant during the medieval period was its
odd identification of Barak with Deborah’s husband, Lapidoth, which several
Christian commentators had picked up from rabbinical sources. This curious development
is an instance where the narrative dynamics of a biblical story were obscured
by a philological interest. The latter, being detached from the story itself,
amounted to little more than a distraction; it provided no helpful insight into
these chapters of the Book of Judges.

The Sexes & Warfare

Nearing now the end of this small study on the Christian reading of the Deborah
account, it seems worthwhile to venture two other considerations with respect
to it.

The first remark has to do with the relations between the sexes in this story.
In particular, I believe that there is another important lesson to be learned
from the account of Jael, and specifically from that combination of deception
and violence with which she put an end to Jabin’s general, Sisera.

The obvious biblical parallel here, of course, is Judith. In both cases the
villains, Sisera and Holofernes, the two of them generals of invading armies,
were lulled to sleep with drink, whether milk or wine, and then quickly, efficiently
dispatched with each lady’s wielding her chosen weapon in an arching downward
swing of the arm. Holofernes is thus decapitated with a sword, and Sisera has
a spike driven through his skull and is thus fixed to the earth. Their passings
were quick and gory and occasions of universal mirth, frolic, and mutual congratulations
all around.

What hardly anyone seems to have mentioned as exceptional about these two
stories, however, is that the women themselves are not blamed for their actions.
On the contrary, they thereby become the heroines, and hymns are chanted in
their honor. Now, this is most curious, because such would not be the case if
Jael and Judith were men. This is a clear instance in which men and women are
treated in Holy Scripture by recourse to a “double standard”: Women
are praised for deeds that would be reprehensible in a man.

In general, the Bible seems to approve of the accepted chivalrous code of
not killing one’s enemy while he is asleep, much less of putting him to
sleep for purposes of killing him! Who can forget, for example, David’s
revenge (2 Samuel 4:5–12) on those who beheaded Ishbosheth in his sleep?
David himself had earlier refused to take violent advantage of the sleeping
Saul (cf. 1 Samuel 26). Likewise, the Bible recalls that the cruel reign of
the Syrian Hazael began with his smothering of Ben-Hadad while he slept (2 Kings
8:15). Indeed, Holy Scripture appears to take a dim view of any man’s
“sneaking up” on his unprotected opponent, or approaching him with
a pretense of friendliness, in order to do him injury. This just “isn’t
done among gentlemen.” The great offender here, of course, is Joab, who
thus slew both Abner (2 Samuel 3:27) and Amasa (20:9f.). No reader has been
known to weep when, later, Joab receives the bloody recompense justly deserved
by a crude, unchivalrous cad (1 Kings 2:32).

There is one clear exception to this rule, of course, which appears rather
early in the Book of Judges. It is that sneaky tale of political assassination
by Ehud, the left-handed judge from the “right-handed tribe” (Benjamin).
This enterprising revolutionary, one recalls, stealthily employed a rather hefty
carving utensil on the unsuspecting and lamentably overweight Eglon the Moabite
(Judges 3:12–25). The inspired author of this biblical passage apparently
felt not the slightest moral scruple about the rightness of Ehud’s ruse
and butchery. The case remains something of an exception in the Bible, nonetheless,
and at least the hapless Eglon was conscious when the deed was done.

Yet, this combination of deception and violence is exactly the sort of thing
that brings glory to Jael and Judith. The praises of these two, after all, were
sung in special canticles. Whatever Ehud’s merits, the Bible at least
records no hymn composed in his honor. And were men and women held to the same
standard in this respect, Joab would be one of the great heroes of biblical
history.

In this respect, the story of Jael fits a very discernible pattern, in which
women are praised for robust deeds of gore and violence. Indeed, one is hard
pressed to think of a single instance in which the Bible suggests even the faintest
whiff of criticism against a woman for an act of physical ferocity. This observation
is not to suggest that there should be such criticism. Doubtless, for example,
when Abimelech was slain by the female citizen of Shechem in Judges 9, the scoundrel
got exactly what he deserved. Nor is one disposed to censure the lady at Abel
Beth-Maachah who improvised a beheading in 2 Samuel 20. In the cases of Sisera
and Holofernes, as well, the reader’s sympathies, like those of the authors,
are entirely on the side of Jael and Judith against the military generals.

Except for the glaring murders commissioned by Jezebel, Athaliah, and Herodias,
however, it is not only curious but also instructive that there appear to be
no instances where the Bible blames a woman for an act of violence, even if
that act would have been blameworthy in a man. That is to say, men and women
in combat are not treated in the same way in Holy Scripture.

The reason would seem to be plain: Men and women are not related to fighting
in any sense of parity. The Bible assumes that making war, if war must be made,
is for men, not for women. Thus, the proper codes of combat are manly codes,
regulations and expectations established for men, not for women. The Bible regards
women in battle as an egregious exception, and exceptions require departures
from normal rules.

Sacramental Foreshadowing

The second observation has to do with sacramental symbolism, and it is prompted
by the parallel between the song of Moses and Miriam in Exodus 15 and the song
of Deborah and Barak in Judges 5. This parallel, long perceived by Christian
readers, may be further exploited with profit.

One may begin by considering how the Exodus canticle itself has been regarded
by Christians. For example, it is well known that the setting of the Exodus
canticle was very early employed in an eschatological sense in the Christian
Church. The text is Revelation 15:2f., which describes the company of the saved,
those delivered from the beast and his mark, standing beside the sea and giving
voice to a triumphant song, like the Israelites of old after the defeat of Pharaoh:
“And I saw something like a sea of glass mingled with fire, and those
who have the victory over the beast, over his image, and over his mark, and
over the number of his name, standing at the sea of glass, having the harps
of God. They sing the song of Moses the servant of God, and the song of the
Lamb.” In this passage the destruction of Pharaoh’s host has become
a symbol of the final victory over the demonic enemies of God’s people,
those redeemed by the blood of the Lamb and who now sing once again at the seaside.

Inasmuch as the passage through the Red Sea was early interpreted as a symbol
of the sacrament of Baptism (“all passed through the sea, all were baptized
in Moses in the cloud and in the sea”—1 Corinthians 10:1f.), it
is not surprising that the canticle of Exodus 15 should early have become a
song associated with baptism. The most obvious evidence for this development
is its solemn chanting by the congregation immediately after the reading of
Exodus 14 during the annual Paschal vigil in both the Eastern and Western liturgies.

The canticle of Deborah and Barak, as we have seen, has often been juxtaposed
with that of Miriam and Moses. In each case, after all, an enemy had been defeated
by God’s intervention at a body of water, whether the Red Sea or the Brook
Kishon (Psalm 82[83]:10). Thus, when Cassiodorus drew attention to the parallel
between the two canticles, he particularly commented how the victory at the
Red Sea was a type of baptism.74 Peter Damian went further, seeing
Sisera’s debacle at the waters of Kishon as itself a foreshadowing of
this sacrament: “For when the catechumen is immersed in the bath of the
sacred fountain, like Sisera with his army, that most wicked spirit necessarily
perishes with all those vices that make war on his behalf.”75
This liturgical typology of the Deborah canticle seems amply justified by the
parallel symbolisms of the two biblical accounts and is worthy of further consideration.

Notes:

1. Josephus adds at least one item, the total destruction of Jabin’s
capital; Antiquities of the Jews 5.5.209. This detail will be quoted
much later, with proper ascription, by Peter Comestor, Librum Judicum 7
(PL 198.1276D).

2. Thus, Theophilus of Antioch, Ad Autolycum 3.24 ( Bibliotheke
Hellenon Pateron [hereafter BHP, followed by volume and page numbers] 5.64);
Quodvultdeus of Carthage, Liber Promissionum 2.17,31 ( Corpus
Christianorum, Series Latina [hereafter CCL, followed by volume and page
numbers] 60.100f.). Josephus ( Antiquities 5.5.209) says that Barak
“directed” (strategei) Israel for forty years. The “forty
years” in Judges 5:31 follows a set scheme of chronology in the Book of
Judges (cf. 3:11,30; 8:28; 13:1) that divides the period into a sequence of
“generations” following the “generation” of the Desert
Wandering (cf. Joshua 5:6; 14:7).

3. “Plana historia est”: Rupert of Deutz,
In Librum Judicum 4 (PL 167.1026D). As there will be occasion to note later,
however, Rupert does comment on the story at greater length elsewhere.

72. “This woman alone struck the enemy of the faith by means of
the wood, in which, through spiritual significance, is the salvation of believers
(per lignum in quo spiritualibus sacramentis credentium salus),”
said Pseudo-Bede, Quaestiones Super Librum Judicum 2 (PL 93.423D).

73. Thomas of Chobham, De Commendatione Virtutum 1 (CCM 82B.36).

74. Cassiodorus, Expositio in Psalterium 105 (PL 70.754).

75. Peter Damian, Sermones 39.7 (CCM 57.245).

Patrick Henry Reardon is pastor of All Saints Antiochian Orthodox Church in Chicago, Illinois. He is the author of Christ in the Psalms, Christ in His Saints, and The Trial of Job (all from Conciliar Press). He is a senior editor of Touchstone.

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Touchstone is a Christian journal, conservative in doctrine and eclectic in content, with editors and readers from each of the three great divisions of Christendom—Protestant, Catholic, and Orthodox.

The mission of the journal and its publisher, The Fellowship of St. James, is to provide a place where Christians of various backgrounds can speak with one another on the basis of shared belief in the fundamental doctrines of the faith as revealed in Holy Scripture and summarized in the ancient creeds of the Church.